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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24614821">Royai Week 2020: A Collection of One-Shots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealityBreakGirl/pseuds/RealityBreakGirl'>RealityBreakGirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood &amp; Manga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Royai - Freeform, Royai Week, Royai Week 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:40:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,213</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24614821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealityBreakGirl/pseuds/RealityBreakGirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye have known each other for years. See moments in their lives through various one-shots that explore their relationship with each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Letters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Word Count:</strong> 1404<br/><strong>Author:</strong> RealityBreakGirl/AQuietWritingCorner<br/><strong>Rating:</strong> G<br/><strong>Characters:</strong> Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye<br/><strong>Prompt:</strong> Letters<br/><strong>Summary:</strong> Post PD. A letter written from Roy to Riza while they needed to be separated for a while.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Letters</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>My dearest Riza,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I know that you will likely see this so-called note I put in your lunch and roll your eyes. It’s no note, it’s a multi-page letter. I know, I had to rewrite it three times to make it perfect. Yes, I did neglect my paperwork to write it. I know that doesn’t make you happy. But I also know you and I know that despite how long it is, how many other things I neglected to write it, or how much of a sap that you think this makes me, this will bring a smile to your face. It’s probably just that soft, upturning of your lips, along with the gentleness that you posses coming through in your eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I love that smile of yours. I always have. When we were children, I wanted to see it on your face because it meant for a moment that you forgot all of the troubles and responsibilities that you bore. For a moment you got to be a light-hearted child, and it made my heart sore to know that I could bring that to you. When we were older, I wanted to make you smile, because I wanted the one to bring that smile to your face. Knowing that I was the one to make you happy, to make you smile like that, it made me unaccountably happy.  I would have given you the world to see that smile on your face all of the time. When we were young soldiers, I loved seeing that smile of yours then, and after, because it gave me hope. It gave me hope that we could survive, hope that you would be alright eventually, hope that you hadn’t been completely broken by what we had experienced. When we were laying out our plans, working towards our goal, I loved seeing that smile because it was a glimpse of your true self, and not the play acting we had to do. It motivated me, reminded me of what we were pushing for, made sure that I stayed on the path. And now I love seeing it because I can see it unhidden. It reminds me of what we accomplished, of where we have gotten to. It reminds me that I can do silly things like write you a multi-page page letter unhidden and in uncoded words just to tell you how much I love you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So please, Riza, smile. Smile as you read my ridiculous long-winded letter. If I know you, you’ve been doing nothing but paperwork and review on your train ride. You’ve always been so diligent. Hopefully this will give you a break while you enjoy your lunch.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Please don’t worry about your lunch. I promise you that I didn’t have a single hand in making it. I suppose that’s one reason that I could write you this letter. The men took care of it for me—Havoc and Falman are surprisingly good cooks—and I sat down to write. Yes, this was technically on duty hours. No, I don’t care, I’ll find some excuse. I’m not going to be called on it or let the men be called on it, and you know that. But I made sure to let the men know all of your favorite dishes and how you like them. I have it memorized. But for some reason, I just can’t seem to make the dishes myself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I still remember you trying to teach me to cook. You were amazed, as a child, that I couldn’t even peel a potato. You tried to teach me to cook, and I failed every time. Eventually you banned me from doing more then peeling and chopping things for you. You were so patient with me, even then. You still made sure to find a way for me to be included in something that I wanted to do. You still found a way for me to help you. You tried again when we were older, and I was so distracted by the feel of your soft hands on mine, of your form so close to me. I was head over heels in love with you even then, even if I didn’t know what to do with it. I’m still distracted by you, and I still don’t know what to do with it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I think that I’ve always been a little bit in love with you, Riza. I was amazed by you those first few days after we met. You were a little girl, but you were so strong. You took care of the house. You took care of the meals. You took care of the laundry. You took care of your father. You took care of me. And you kept up with your own studies. Your own father shunned you, and yet you kept going. And on top of that, while you were shy and timid, you also had a quiet bravery about you, and a sharp tongue. I was in awe.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That awe never left. It transformed into friendship, and I was deeply honored that you wanted to be friends with me. I was honored when you confided in me. I valued and treasured our friendship. You became the best friend I never had, someone I wanted to talk to and be around. When I was excited, I wanted to share it with you. When you were hurting, I wanted to take it from you. When I went home, I talked about you. When I saw you injured, I wanted to protect you. You were my best friend. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And just like the awe, that friendship never left. It transformed again, this time into love. I knew I loved you when I came back to see you after the academy. When I laid eyes on you again, the feeling I had was one that I hadn’t experienced before. I wanted right then and there to take you into my arms and hold you. I saw, what I thought then was, the stress of your father’s failing health in your face. I saw the burden you were carrying. I wanted to smooth it from you, to reassure you, to make sure you knew that you weren’t alone. But I was scared of you rejecting me. I was scared of you feeling—then or later—as if I was taking advantage of you and your grief. I often wonder what would have happened if I had been braver.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But the love never left, it only grew, and over the years it grew deeper and deeper. I knew that there would never be anyone else. I knew that you were the only one I would ever love. It tore my heart to pieces at times, to see what you were going through. It killed me inside to hurt you, and it killed me to see you hurting. But it also motivated me to create a world that would be better. I wanted a world where you would be able to smile. I know that we had always planned to turn ourselves over for war crimes, but I had carried out some hope that you would survive.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m glad to know that you did. I’m glad to know that we both did.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Riza, I hope you understand the depths of my love for you. I hope that, although in the past I’ve not been able to show it to you, or express it, you’ve always known. I hope that in the days to come, no matter what they hold for us, that you will always know. I wish that there was someway that I could show you how full of love my heart is for you, but these words are the best that I can do, especially when I am not with you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I will desperately miss you while we are apart these next few months. I know that you will be supporting me from afar, and I know that you will be well taken care of, but every night that you aren’t here with me, and I’m not there with you will be a difficult one. I will be deprived of my best friend, my truest support, my reliable voice of reason, and the love of my life. I will look forward with great longing to the day that we’re reunited.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And when we’re reunited again, I hope to see that smile on your face. And, if we’re lucky, not long afterwards, on our child’s too.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With the utmost love to you, your dedicated husband,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Roy Mustang</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Little Pistol</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Word Count:</strong> 1025<br/><strong>Author:</strong> RealityBreakGirl/AQuietWritingCorner<br/><strong>Rating:</strong> T<br/><strong>Characters:</strong> Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye<br/><strong>Prompt:</strong> Song Prompt: Mother Mother, Little Pistol<br/><strong>Summary:</strong> Riza has a little pistol, and it’s always made her feel safer.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Little Pistol</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Riza had always liked guns. Ever since she was young, and a soldier on furlough had taught her how to handle one when he saw her curiosity, she had liked guns. They gave her a measure of control, they gave her protection, and they helped her survive. When she went into town with her fresh kill, to see if the butcher would buy it from her, hunting rifle slung over her shoulder, none of the boys who liked to bully her would bully her then. They knew that her aim was good. They had seen her throw things accurately. It wasn’t a hard jump for them to figure out that she was a good shot with her rifle too.</p><p>But what she liked better than her hunting rifle, was her little pistol.</p><p>She had found it when she had been cleaning. It had been in a box of things that were her mother’s, and it had surprised her. It was a small thing, something that she had learned later was referred to as a “pocket pistol.” It was a small .22, and it hid very well. She knew, because she found ways to hide it.</p><p>She hid it the most whenever her father got a new apprentice. The apprentices never lasted long. None of them could put up with her father’s obsessive research, his high demands, and the expectations that he had. Some of them had been nice, but frustrated, and Riza had learned to avoid anger and frustration a long time ago. Others were indifferent to her, but the anger and frustration always came and so she avoided them too. Some came angry and frustrated, and it only got worse. She had hid from all of the apprentices, snuck around her own house, and felt defenseless, until she found that little pistol. But when that one apprentice who tended to be violently angry had barged into her room to drag her out, upset about how she had laundered his clothes, and she had reached under her pillow for that little pistol and aimed it at him, he had quickly backed off.</p><p>After that, she had a tendency to keep it on her as much as possible. Of course, she didn’t let her father know about it, but she felt less afraid with it on her person somewhere. She had to protect herself somehow, and if that meant that she was a little girl who was armed while she tended the rose garden, then that’s what she would do.</p><p>And then <em>he</em> had come and things had begun to change.</p><p>This apprentice was only a few years older than her. He didn’t make demands of her, not on purpose. He was able to deal with her father’s moods and keep up with his expectations. And, she found, over time, he became her friend, someone she could trust, and she felt less and less reason to stay armed. Her little pistol wasn’t something that was needed as much, although it still helped her feel safer in general. But as long as he was there, she didn’t feel the need to stay constantly armed. He was someone that she could trust.</p><p>Then <em>he</em> had left, and she couldn’t arm herself against the person harming her this time, because she wanted his love, although it never happened. She still kept her little pistol near her, though, when she could. It made her feel more secure, even if she knew she’d never us it against her father. And, towards the end, <em>he</em> came back, and she hadn’t felt the need for the little pistol as they shared themselves with each other, growing closer than before, her trust and security turning into love. When he had left again, and she had followed him, following his dream.</p><p>She was thrust in a forsaken land, with a rifle in her hands again, only this time she wasn’t hunting game. This time she had been trained to kill people while the sun beat down hot on her head, following orders that killed her inside and made her want to scream. She was young, inexperienced, and with emotions and tensions high, she felt old habits returning, and the need to protect herself bloomed in her again. It wasn’t regulation, but she wasn’t the only one carrying a non-regulation weapon on her. Her little pistol kept her safe from the world, again, even as the world around her burned to the ground, brimstone all around her, and the smell of desert roses burning wafting up to her nose.</p><p><em>He</em> was back in her life again, once more getting past all of her defenses, even in that desert. She kept her little pistol on her, although she felt no need for it around him. After they left that forsaken land, she was conflicted, pulled between putting her little pistol down around him, and holding to it tightly for her own safety again when she was alone. For once her little pistol couldn’t give her the comfort it once did, and she didn’t know what to do.</p><p>But this time, <em>he </em>didn’t leave her. He explained his plan to her, told her of what it was that he wanted to do, asked her to be a part of it, even if it meant then end of them in the end, and she understood. When he explained it, she knew what had to be done, felt secure in her decision. She made her choice and laid down her little pistol in favor of military handguns. She left it in a drawer in her bedroom, strapping more powerful weapons to her waist, hiding them in holsters under her arms, and slinging a rifle across her shoulder, all for him. She knew that this plan was like following something that was being consumed by fire, like if she had gone into those desert roses while they were being consumed by the flames. But if he was a burning rose, then he was her burning rose, and she’d follow him to the depths of the underworld itself.</p><p>She didn’t need her little pistol anymore. Not while she was by his side.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Old Wounds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Word Count:</strong> 1715<br/><strong>Author:</strong> RealityBreakGirl/AQuietWritingCorner<br/><strong>Rating:</strong> T<br/><strong>Characters:</strong> Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye<br/><strong>Prompt:</strong> Old Wounds<br/><strong>Summary:</strong> Riza’s body is littered with scars from over her life. Roy asks her some questions about the old wounds that these scars came from.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Old Wounds</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>There was a polite knock on Riza’s tent flap, the heavy canvas giving a sort of muffled thud as the person on the other side waited for entry. Riza paused, the washcloth in her hand stilling. There wasn’t a lot of regular water in the desert. Showering or bathing every day was a waste of water in this climate. But Riza would take a rag and a basin of water and bathe off every day that she could. It was a habit that she had gotten into the first time she was in Ishval and it had quickly returned this time around. It kept her cleaner and helped cut down on problems.</p><p>“Who is it?” she asked, not yet moving to cover herself. Her back was to the entrance, but she glanced over her shoulder, ready to grab something to cover herself with if the person took that as leave to come in.</p><p>“It’s just me,” Roy’s voice came back. “I have something for you.”</p><p>She relaxed and turned back to using her washcloth to bathe off. She was fine with Roy coming in with her like this. Their relationship had only deepened since the Promised Day, and although not officially together, they had been growing more and more intimate with each other. She didn’t mind if he saw her in a state of mostly undress.</p><p>“Come on in,” she said to him. She heard the heavy fabric move and swing back, and the pause in Roy’s footsteps as he realized what she was doing.</p><p>“I…don’t meant to intrude,” he said carefully.</p><p>She shook her head, her back still to him. He was the only person she’d trust with it like this. “No, you’re fine, you know that.” She said. “I’m just washing up. I’m almost finished. I’ve just got my back left to do.”</p><p>“Do you want a hand?” he asked her, still standing near the entrance to the tent.</p><p>Riza paused. “Actually, that would be nice,” she said. “I have trouble reaching parts of it.”</p><p>She heard him come closer, and he sat something down beside her before reaching over her shoulder for the washcloth. “Those are dates,” he said, referring to the bowl. “We were just given some, and I remembered that you enjoyed them. I brought you some.”</p><p>“Thank you,” she said, surrendering the washcloth towards him and reaching for a date. She hadn’t had on in years, but she had enjoyed them immensely the few times that she had eaten them.</p><p>They were quiet for a few moments as Roy dipped the washcloth in the water, warming it up and Riza picked up a date and popped it in her mouth. She let out a satisfied sigh as she ate it, Roy chuckling as he ran the washcloth over her back. For a moment, that was all that they did, and Riza was utterly content in that moment.</p><p>But after a moment, she felt the washcloth still, as if he was looking at something, and then he spoke. “…Riza?” Roy’s voice was quiet, questioning.</p><p>“Yes?” she asked, pausing with another date halfway to her mouth, curious.</p><p>“What’s this?” She felt his fingers still on a scar that she had on her arm, near her underarm. She twisted a little bit to look at it, trying to remember which scar it was.</p><p>“Oh, that.” She looked at the scar. It was ragged and a bit ugly, but she honestly had forgotten it was there. “That happened when I was about… about six, I think. I was trying to get wood from the woodpile, slipped, fell, and ended up with a cut. I did my best, but it did get infected. The teacher at school noticed later and helped me clean it.”</p><p>She felt his hand brush over it, pausing for a second. He seemed to still again and then his had moved again, up to her shoulder, and then moving down her arm. “And this one?” he asked, stopping on another scar.</p><p>She didn’t have to look at that one. She’d always remember it. It was one of her earliest memories. “I was five. I fell and broke one of mother’s china dishes. Father was angry that I had broken it. It was the first time he hit me like that, and I fell backwards into one of the pieces and it cut my arm.” She could feel his frown, even though he wasn’t looking at her.</p><p>His hand kept moving, and he reached her hand. “This one?” he said, running his fingers over one on her palm.</p><p>“Cooking accident. Twelve. I cut myself with the knife. I cleaned it up, stitched it up, and kept cooking. That was the day you came back after the holidays. Father kept you at your studies all day.”</p><p>“I remember that.” He let her hand down, ghosting his hands back up, and over her shoulders and back. They paused for a moment over the large scars on her back, but they didn’t linger, and he didn’t comment. Instead, his hands went down her other arm.</p><p>“This one?” one on her elbow</p><p>“I fell from a tree and scraped it heavily on a branch on the way down. I nearly broke my arm. I was ten. You were gone back to visit your aunt.”</p><p>“I see.” His hands went down to her hand, brushing across one on her knuckles. “And here?”</p><p>“Training.” There was a trace of humor in her voice. “Long story short, I got tired of the way one guy would speak to me. I busted my hand on a wall when he dodged but broke his nose with a kick. It was worth it.”</p><p>“I bet it was,” he said, a bit of humor in his voice. He hesitated for a moment, then moved around to her front, his hands going up and ghosting over the scar on her neck before moving down her sides. “This one?” His hands ghosted over a large one on her side.</p><p>“Do you remember that week I limped around when I was fourteen? It was from this. I fell down that crevice while hunting. Slide and scrapped up my side. I took care of it after I got home. Father had you locked up in the study with him, so I never bothered to tell you.”</p><p>He frowned again, but moved on, hovering over one on her lower stomach. “Here?”</p><p>“From the table Father would put me on. Part of it was from struggling, part of it from him securing me to it, and part of it from the sheer amount of time I was there. Sniping didn’t help it any.”</p><p>His frown deepened, but he moved onto her legs, his hands going down on of them. “This one?” he asked stopping at some scars on her thigh.</p><p>“Ishval. An explosive went off near me. Some of shrapnel got me.” She said. “The doctors had to dig out quite a bit of it.”</p><p>He nodded, moving down to her ankle. “This one?”</p><p>She smiled. “An accident with Hughes. He was trying to teach me how to throw knives and it bounced back. He panicked, said that if I bled out, you would kill him.”</p><p>Roy smiled. “That sounds like him.” He shifted over to her other leg, tracing a winding scar around her calf. “This one?”</p><p>“Barbed wire. I was seven and running from father when he was in one of his moods. I ran outside and hid but got caught in some barbed wire. The more I struggled the harder it dug in. Fortunately, it was in some tall grass, so if I stayed still, he couldn’t see me. I worked it out after I knew he was gone.” She counted the scar worth not getting caught by her father.</p><p>He frowned again, eyes traveling over her. She let him look, knowing that he wasn’t looking at her body necessarily, but at the dozens of other little scars that littered her body. After a moment he stood and reached out, cupping her face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said.</p><p>“For what?” she asked him curiosity in her voice this time.</p><p>“For all of these,” he said. “For all the old wounds you have.”</p><p>There was sadness in his eyes as he looked at her, and she shook her head. “They’re not your fault,” she said, “You have nothing to apologize for.”</p><p>“I left you there,” he insisted. “I left you with him.”</p><p>Riza shook her head again, her hands coming up to hold his wrists. “Roy. You know that’s not true. You know I wouldn’t have left.”</p><p>“Still.” He bent closer to her, touching his forehead to hers, his eyes closing in pain. “You have so many old wounds. I wish I could have kept you from all that pain.”</p><p>Riza smiled up at him, her hands coming to cup his face in return. “I know,” her voice was gentle. “But you couldn’t. And I don’t blame you for that. I never have—not anything that happened when I was a child, or since. Old wounds are old wounds, and they heal. They might leave scars, but they do heal. Roy,” she waited until he opened his eyes again and focused her eyes on him. “I may have old wounds, but without you in my life, I don’t know if I’d even be alive.”</p><p>Roy stared at her for a moment, then closed his eyes again. But he smiled. “I sure that I wouldn’t be alive without you in mind, Riza Hawkeye.” He pulled back, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I love you. I don’t deserve you.”</p><p>She smiled at him. “I love you too,” she said. “But I’m sure that we deserve each other. Now—are you going to finish helping me wash up, or are you just going to stand here staring at me inappropriately,” she teased him.</p><p>He laughed and straightened up. “Hand me your lotion. I’ll get your back for you.”</p><p>She reached for the bottle to hand to him even as he moved back around behind her, in a position of trust that she gave to no one else. She knew that no matter her old wounds, they were safe with him, just as his were with her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Crackle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Word Count:</strong> 1830<br/><strong>Author:</strong> RealityBreakGirl/AQuietWritingCorner<br/><strong>Rating:</strong> T<br/><strong>Characters:</strong> Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye<br/><strong>Prompt:</strong> Crackle<br/><strong>Summary:</strong> Bonfires cast shadows. And those shadows aren’t still. And for Riza Hawkeye, even with the bonfire is happily crackling away and people are celebrating around her, the shadows remind her of other living shadows. Roy notices, and does what he can to help.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Crackle</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Celebration was in the air. The sun was down, but the air was alight with laughter, stories, songs and general cheer. Food was being cooked, drinks were being passed around, and the wonderful smells of it wafted through the air. A giant crackling bonfire stood in the middle of the courtyard of Central Headquarters, the last of the debris and renovations from the Promised Day burning up in it. The soldiers who had been working so hard on it and those that had fought in the battle were all here in an impromptu celebration. The fire had been lit by none other then Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, himself.</p><p>He had come, along with his faithful lieutenant, to check out the progress and had been more then happy to light up the bonfire himself, pleased to get rid of this last bit of destruction that was left and moving forward. Riza had teased him a bit about how eagerly he had done it, and Roy had just laughed at her words. As the party kicked up, Roy had made his way through the crowds of men, talking and laughing with them. Riza had stuck with him for a bit, but she was still rebuilding her strength after her blood loss on the Promised Day and the stress her body had been through as a living hostage under Bradley and Pride. When he had noticed her feeling tired and weak, he had found her a metal drum laying on its side and sat her down on it while he went to get them both some food.</p><p>He had two plates piled high with food as he walked back to her with a smile and high spirits—until he saw her. She was still sitting on that barrel near the fire where he had left her, but she was far from relaxed. She was stiff-backed, her knees bent at an angle that would make it easy for her to move if she wasn’t so stiff. Her arms were by her side, holding white-knuckled to the barrel, stiff and straight. Her face was pale, her eyes wide. Concerned, he hurried to her side, not sure what had happened, but determined to find out. As got closer to her, he could see her breath was gasping and a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. He put the plates of food down and knelt in front of her.  “Riza?” he said. “Riza can you hear me?”</p><p>She didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge him, and her eyes weren’t focused on him. Her breathing picked up, and he saw a slight tremble forming in her. She wasn’t here with him. That much was obvious. It wasn’t the first time that he had found her in a state like this over the years. She had found him similarly before. The question was, why was she reacting like this? What had set her off? He followed her gaze and realized that her eyes were locked on the dancing shadows made by the crackling fire.</p><p>It suddenly clicked with him, and Roy understood what was happening. The shadows that her eyes were locked on looked like they were moving on their own—just like one small homunculus had shown her that he could do, that he had threatened her with. He needed to get her away from here, away from the reminder. Roy looked around trying to find a place that would be away from the direct flickering light and spotted a small alcove that the architecture had formed. That would do.</p><p>Looking around again, Roy spotted a private that was walking nearby and wasted no time getting his help. “Private!”</p><p>The private jumped, and turned to look at him, dropping into a salute. “Sir!” he said in response</p><p>Roy waved off the salute “Give me a hand. The Lieutenant isn’t feeling very well and I’m going to take her somewhere a little quieter. I need you to carry the food and then get us some drinks.”</p><p>“Of course, sir!” the young man seemed eager to please and took the plates of food that Roy handed him.</p><p>Roy turned his attention back to Riza. “Riza,” he said again, quietly. “We’re going to move, alright? I’m going to take you somewhere safe. We’ll talk about the stars,” he said, referring to when they were children and would sit on the roof, hiding from her father and talking about the stars. He hoped something in that would strike a chord in her. He stood, standing to the side of her, and put his arm on her upper arm to give her a gentle tug up. She gasped sharply, paling out a bit more and stiffened, but otherwise didn’t resist too much. Roy couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her head but kept a hold of her and walked her towards the alcove. The Private followed behind with the plates dutifully. Riza didn’t say a word the whole way, although her eyes kept flickering between the shadows as if she was waiting for one of them to strike.</p><p>The alcove wasn’t far, and part of it was deep in shadow. That was he part that Roy led her towards, knowing that she had a preference lately for places that were either completely lit, or totally dark. She almost seemed a little relieved as he sat her in one of the darkest parts, where she couldn’t see the flickering light anymore. He took the food from the private who then hurried away to find them drinks.</p><p>Roy took advantage of moment alone and knelt next to her. “Riza? Riza talk to me. Its Roy. Riza, listen to me. We’re in Central. We’re at headquarters. It’s summertime now.”</p><p>She still wasn’t saying anything, although her eyes didn’t seem to be focused on anything in particular now. Did that mean that she was coming out of it? Or did it mean that she was falling deeper into it? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t have time to find out as the private arrived back quickly with drinks for them.</p><p>“Is there anything else I can do, sir?” he asked.</p><p>Roy shook his head. “No. She just needs to rest for a moment. Thank you for your help, Private.”</p><p>“Of course, sir. If you need anything else, please let me know.”</p><p>The private left then, and Roy didn’t think another thought about him. He was focused on Riza. He needed to find a way to break her out of this. “Riza?” he said. “Riza, I want you to drink some of this.” He picked up one of the drinks, and pressed it to her lips, tipping a little of the liquid in her mouth. She blinked, it seeming to surprise her a little, and her hand came up to the cup, which relieved Roy. She was responding to outside stimuli, at least. Roy wrapped her hand around the cup, letting her control the flow.</p><p>“That’s a girl, Riza. Drink what you can.” He kept his hand on it, just in case, and helped her lower it when she was done. “Are you with me?” he asked her. “Riza?” Her eyes met his slowly, but she still wasn’t fully present with him, he could tell.</p><p>Alright. He needed to keep grounding her. He needed to break the hold of the memory, but she wasn’t to the point that she could describe was around her yet. In that case, he needed to get her to respond to more outside stimuli. Best way to do that at the moment was through some normalcy. He sat down beside her, shoulder to shoulder, and coaxed her legs to lay flatter then her curled up position.  He sat the plate on it, sitting his own on his.</p><p> “Here. I want you eat a little of this, alright?” he said, picking up some of the food. It wasn’t much, just some vegetables that had been roasted on a stick, but it was something that she could focus on that was solid, real, and involved most of her senses. He placed it in her hand and encouraged her to start eating on the kabob. Once she did that, he started talking, keeping up a steady stream of conversation. He described what was around them, letting her know what was happening around them. He reminded her of times they had shared, of things they had done. He gave her memories that no one else could have had about them, to reassure her that it really was him.</p><p>He kept a close eye on her as he did, noticing as she slowly she began to focus more on him then on the shadows around them. She began to lean more into him instead of holding herself stiff. Her own fingers chose her food, instead of letting Roy choose it for her. She chose to pick up her drink, instead of Roy nudging her fingers towards it.  Finally, she was looking at him, herself again, exhausted but aware.</p><p>“…I don’t remember moving here,” she said, her voice tired, and looking around a bit.</p><p>“I brought you here,” Roy said gently. “You needed to get away for a bit.”</p><p>“…Away for a bit?” Riza was quiet, and for a moment, Roy wondered if she had retreated again, but she let out a sigh and leaned her head over on him, burying her face in his shoulder.</p><p>“It was like he was there again,” she said after a few moments. “The way the shadows were moving. I could hear the party going on, hear the crackle of the fire, but I couldn’t focus on anything but those shadows.”</p><p>Roy wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in closer to him. “I figured it was something like that,” he said. “That’s why I got you away from there.”</p><p>“Sorry,” she said from his shoulder. “I ruined a good time.”</p><p>Roy shook his head. “No, don’t be. It’s alright. We’re all still getting used to new things that bother us.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead. “If you’ll stay by me with mine, and help me when they overwhelm me, then I’ll help you with yours.”</p><p>“Deal,” she said tiredly. “Roy?” she said after a moment.</p><p>“Yes?” he responded.</p><p>“…Can we just go home?”</p><p>He smiled, giving her another squeeze. “Of course. You’re more important to me than any silly party.”</p><p>He could feel her sigh against him and gave her a squeeze before moving to get up and help her up. They moved at her pace, slipping out of the celebration together, leaving the crackling fire behind them. He kept his arm around her as they left, doing his best to keep her secure, and swore a new vow, if only to himself, as they left.</p><p>He wouldn’t waste anymore time. She had stood with him for years. In moments like this, it was his turn. He would stand with her and support her, no matter what.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Couple on a Bench at Sunset</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Word Count:</strong> 1007<br/><strong>Author:</strong> RealityBreakGirl/AQuietWritingCorner<br/><strong>Rating:</strong> T<br/><strong>Characters:</strong> Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye<br/><strong>Prompt:</strong> Picture Prompt, A Couple On a Bench At Sunset<br/><strong>Summary:</strong> An older Roy and Riza do a little reflecting on their lives<br/><br/></p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>A Couple on a Bench at Sunset</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The elderly man wrapped his arm around the gray-headed woman beside him as they sat on the bench. She leaned into his side, enjoying his warmth. They both had long ago gone gray, and had clearly lived long lives, but they were also clearly content with each other. They looked out over a very placid lake, the sun setting in front of them, it’s lingering rays providing some warmth to the two of them. For a while, the couple was silent, as if no words were needed between them.</p><p>“…It’s been quite a life we’ve had, hasn’t it, Riza?” The man was the first to break the silence.</p><p>The woman shifted just a little. “That’s one word for it, Roy,” she said, humor in her voice. “I’m sure there are lots of other ways people would describe it.”</p><p>The man snorted. “Yes, well, not all of them would be polite to say the least.”</p><p>She hummed thoughtfully. “That’s true. The first part of our lives we didn’t do very well.”</p><p>His arm tightened on her. “No. We didn’t. And if anyone wanted to curse our names for all eternity for that I wouldn’t blame them.”</p><p>“Neither would I, honestly,” she said with a sigh. “We killed and destroyed. We’re murders and we can’t change that.”</p><p>“I know,” He said. “I’ve always known. But at least we could work to prevent others from becoming what we were.”</p><p>“I think we succeeded on that,” she said. “We did help create a better country, at least.”</p><p>“That’s true,” he said. “No more pointless wars.”</p><p>“Better trade.”</p><p>“More diplomacy.”</p><p>“But we were still strong.”</p><p>“More social programs to help people.”</p><p>“Better resources for people to use.”</p><p>“Restructuring of state programs.”</p><p>“A return to democracy.”</p><p>He smiled. “I think that one was my favorite.”</p><p>She laughed. “You only think that, because you retired from the military when you were elected, and that meant we could get married.”</p><p>“It’s a good reason!” he said with a grin. “Everyone was so happy for us.”</p><p>“Did you know that they had bets on when we would finally get married?”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yes. I think Miles won.”</p><p>“Huh.”</p><p>They were quiet for a little bit longer.</p><p>“Edward was the first of us to get married, wasn’t he?” The man asked.</p><p>The woman nodded. “He was. He and Winry were married fairly quickly. Had lots of kids.”</p><p>The man chuckled. “I remember after you held their first child. You looked at me and said ‘I want one,’ with this look on your face.”</p><p>She smiled. “There was just something about holding a baby…”</p><p>“You were like that with all of them,” he said.</p><p>“Can you blame me? They were cute. And besides, I was godmother to Jean and Rebecca’s.”</p><p>He laughed. “The godparent thing was a mess. So many if and buts in the wills with the kids.”</p><p>“It really was. None of us ever knew what was going to happen to any of us, so we had to have everything covered.”</p><p>“We certainly gave the lawyers a mess.”</p><p>She laughed this time. “We did. Let’s see, Edward and Alphonse’s kids were mostly with each other or with Mei’s clan.”</p><p>“We were there as a just in case, I think,” he said.</p><p>“Yes,” she said. “but the main tangle were us, Jean and Rebecca’s—”</p><p>“Heymans and Catherine’s—"</p><p>“Vato and his wife’s—"</p><p>“Kain and Sheska’s—”</p><p>“Didn’t Kain and Sheska also end up on Maria’s and Denny’s list?”</p><p>“I think so.”</p><p>“And Heymans and Catherine had the whole Armstrong clan too.”</p><p>“That’s true.”</p><p>“If nothing else, all the kids were covered, just in case, even if it was a mess for the lawyers.”</p><p>“True.”</p><p>They fell silent again for a moment, enjoying the view, and the moment around them.</p><p>“Do you think we were good parents?” She suddenly asked.</p><p>He looked down at her, a soft smile on his lips. “Yes. Or, well, we were the best we could be.”</p><p>“I just hope we were good enough,” she said with a sigh.</p><p>“I’m sure we were,” he said. “They grew up well. Look at all they’ve accomplished.”</p><p>“Hm, that’s true.” She said. “Herbert grew up into a fine man with a sharp mind. He’d had a distinguished military career, married a wonderful woman, has beautiful children.”</p><p>The man hummed an agreement. “Victoria grew up lovely as well. She’s a fine researcher, a beautiful woman, and found herself a good man and has wonderful children herself.”</p><p>“She did. I’m proud of her,” the woman said. “Wallace has done well too, made a good career for himself in politics. He’s helping to keep the country on the right path, and his wife is right by his side, his children growing up well too.”</p><p>“I’m glad we’ve gotten to enjoy our children and our grandchildren.”</p><p>“Me too. There were plenty of times I didn’t think we’d make it even close to this far. I’m so glad that we did.”</p><p>The man leaned over a bit and placed a kiss on her head. “All in all, we’ve had a good life, haven’t we, my love?”</p><p>She smiled. “We have. It’s been full of adventure.”</p><p>They were quiet again for a moment, until he took in a big breath and slowly pushed up off of the bench. He turned and offered his had to her. “Well. Are you ready to take on our next adventure?”</p><p>She smiled, and took his hand, letting him help her to her feet. “I told you a long time ago, Roy. I’ll follow you anywhere.”</p><p>He smiled at her, offered her his arm, and she took it. “Well. Then I guess we had better be on our way—there’s new adventures waiting for us.”</p><p>Still clearly content with each other, the couple strolled off together, arm in arm, even as the sun slowly set over the water. And as they did, slowly disappearing from sight of the bench, for a moment, they looked like a much younger couple, ready and willing to take on the world.</p>
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